


What the night brings

by mybffbatman



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, POV Steve Rogers, Sleepy Cuddles, Steve Rogers Feels, Tony Stark Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:48:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27388969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mybffbatman/pseuds/mybffbatman
Summary: He couldn’t remember how it all started, there was no pinpointing an exact moment. Steve remembers it being simple, a passing comment about the loneliness the night brought, a commiseration on how empty a bed felt, and a desire for companionship, nothing more nothing less. It may have even started as a joke, Tony making some innuendo laced proposal and Steve innocently accepting.  All that matters is Steve used to sleep alone all the time, now some nights he didn’t.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 7
Kudos: 130





	What the night brings

**Author's Note:**

> Just a short little blurb. Thank you for reading.

Steve crept quietly into the dark room, his bare feet not making a sound on the plush carpet beneath them, they never did. He moved around any discarded clothing that may have been tossed in a rush to get into the bed, stepping easily over the sneakers and around to the far side of the king sized bed that sat in the middle of the room. He peeled back the blankets and slipped under the warm comforter, sliding down the high thread count sheets until his head hit a familiar pillow, too fluffy to be anything he would buy himself. 

He couldn’t remember how it all started, there was no pinpointing an exact moment. Steve remembers it being simple, a passing comment about the loneliness the night brought, a commiseration on how empty a bed felt, and a desire for companionship, nothing more nothing less. It may have even started as a joke, Tony making some innuendo laced proposal and Steve innocently accepting. All that matters is Steve used to sleep alone all the time, now some nights he didn’t.

Occasionally Tony would come to his door, knock politely and follow Steve back to his bed. Most of the time though, Steve would climb the stairway to the penthouse. The door would always unlock for him, Jarvis understanding of the situation. The lights would stay off and Steve would silently make his way through the living space and down the short hall where Tony’s door would always be open just a crack. If Tony was sleeping, he would silently make his way to his side of the bed. If Tony was awake they would exchange a silent look, and still he would move silently around the bed to his own side, slip in and the both of them would go to sleep.

There was nothing sexual about it, but still they kept it to themselves, they didn’t talk about it in the daylight. The last thing the team needed was yet another reason to tease either of them. It was just, Tony and Steve, though vastly different pasts, had similar traumas. Experience with anxieties and nightmares. Steve never found himself needing to explain, and Tony never needed to elaborate, a mutual understanding, a mutual support. 

Steve shivered as he curled onto his side, a particularly rough nightmare had stirred him from his sleep, the weight of the ice on top of him, His chest constricted and his breath trapped in his throat, he was freezing yet again, praying for death but getting nothing but pain and darkness. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to push the thoughts from his head, the sound of blankets rustling from the darkness beside him helped. Reminding him he was not alone anymore.

Some nights the nightmares forced him to seek Tony out, some nights it was just the cold empty feeling of the nothingness that lay beside him in his own bed. More and more though it was the scratchy feeling of his own sheets, or the featherlight feeling of his own comforter, nothing to compare against the weighted one that Tony owned, or the deathly silence that a room brought when there were no other sounds of a sleeping person surrounding him.

Steve knew they were just excuses, but Tony didn’t ever seem to mind, he never questioned, and he never turned Steve away. 

Tonight though, As Steve tried to bury his face into the blanket wrapped around his shoulders, the vision of the thick ice penetrating his head, he had every reason to be there. Another chattery breath left his lips as he pulled the comforter tighter needing to feel the warmth. 

A shifting beside him quickly followed, and the mattress barely dipped as the body next to Steve got closer, a warmth trailed along with it, and shortly after a heavy arm was thrown over Steve’s side. There were no words exchanged as Tony wrapped himself around Steve like a small koala curling around a large tree trunk. 

Tony’s blanket wrapped leg lifted up and rested over top of Steve’s thighs, while a warm nose pressed into the back of his neck. The heat immediately melted him from the outside in, the shivers stopping dead in their tracks, while Steve’s chest suddenly felt weightless from it all. Within minutes he knew he would be drifting back to sleep, and when he woke up it would be nothing more than a comforting memory. 

They had slept together for months now and sure there had been the occasional brush of skin, or accidental limb resting against limb, but there had been no intentional contact. No specified cuddling, at least not until this night. Steve wasn’t going to question it, or refuse it though. He needed it, this particular nightmare was rare but it was one of his worst and it had been many months since he last relived it. The warmth and comfort Tony was supplying was direly needed.

Somehow, there in Tony’s bed in the middle of the night half asleep Tony recognized Steve’s struggles and with his sleep clogged mind curled around him like a big spoon, the only sound aside from breathing was a small sniff and a content sigh as Tony once again drifted into a deep sleep, and Steve followed quickly behind. 

In the morning, one of Tony’s arms was still around Steve, though he himself had pulled away, his chest no longer flesh against Steve’s back, but still, that arm haphazardly draped over Steve’s chest, a reminder and a comfort. Steve didn’t want to move partly to not bother Tony, whose face was still pressed into a pillow fast asleep, and partly because the arm caused him to feel something he had not experienced in many years. A calm fondness, a safetness that Steve wasn’t sure he was allowed anymore. 

He knew it wouldn’t last forever though, and as carefully as he could Steve tried to slip out from underneath Tony’s arm. It doesn’t go well, Steve is barely to his feet when Tony shifts awake, lifting himself up onto his elbow.

“Are you okay?” The brunette asks into the room. Steve doesn’t know what else to do so he freezes. They don’t normally speak in the morning, but Tony blinks back the sleep in his eyes and he’s looking at Steve, concerned and warm and Steve finds himself nodding.

“I'm better now.” Steve admits, and a soft smile finds Tony’s lips before he slips off of his elbows and his eyes are closing again, going right back to sleep while Steve tiptoes back to his own floor. 

The next night Steve is once again crawling into Tony’s bed, this time there is no nightmare, no real reason he needed to be there. He was just laying in his own bed, tossing and turning until he declared it was too lumpy to sleep in and made his way to the penthouse.

Tony is asleep again and when Steve finally lays down under that weighted blanket, he sleepily rolls closer, this time resting his head against Steve’s shoulder. The warmth once again is immediate, and Steve can smell the scent of fruit and motor oil coming from the curly brunette hair, it’s sweet and spicy and lulls Steve right to sleep.

When he wakes up, it’s his arm draped over Tony, who's still very much pressed against his side. Once again, Steve doesn’t want to move, fear of losing the contact that suddenly feels so natural, like they should have been doing it all along. He likes the way his arm fits against Tony, how it almost engulfs him entirely, and how content Tony looks, how much younger he looks there tucked up beside him, under Steve’s protective grasp. 

  
Steve stays like that for as long as the universe allows him to, both reading into it too much and telling himself not to. It’s when Tony stirs, that he quickly snaps his eyes shut and pretends the best course of action is to pretend to still be sleeping. It works, because he can feel Tony, slowly beside him moving, shifting with a gentleness not often found from the mechanic. Tony’s calloused hands brush against his arm, caressing it before he slides away, out from underneath it, the mattress shifting as the weight beside Steve disappears. It’s not until Steve hears the sound of the shower running that he slides out of the bed and heads back to his own room to start another day.

  
  


It's been a few days, and Steve is just about to get himself ready for bed when the alarm rings. He can’t find it in him to complain too much, it had been a few weeks since the Avengers had been needed, though he was unable to stop the sigh that escaped him as he put his pajama shorts back in his drawer and headed towards the hangar. 

The fight was exhausting, where villains continued coming up with their ideas baffled Steve, he wasn’t the only one that felt this way as they head back, bruised egos and skin, there was no talking. They had won and that was all that mattered. The conversations don’t start again until they’re filing off the jet, odd comments about getting to bed, Bruce mentioning he was in the middle of a good book. 

“I’ll be in the shop.” Tony says to no one in particular, but it feels awfully pointed towards Steve. “I’ll be working most of the night, I have a lot to catch up on.”

It’s casual, but Tony’s deep brown eyes look directly into Steve, and he thinks he gets it.

Later on after a hot shower Steve crawls into his own empty bed and hates it, but forces himself to sleep anyways. He doesn’t know how long he’s been asleep for, but a soft and all too familiar knock at his door wakes him. 

Steve doesn’t hesitate making his way to the door and pulling it open. He leaves it unlocked, he’s safe in the tower and the only person who would enter would be Tony, but he never just slips in, he always knocks first. Tonight though, Tony is standing in the doorway, a screwdriver in one hand while the other palms absentmindedly at his chest. His eyes are wide and tired and his shop clothes are a mess, he looks a little wild, and Steve knows he must have fallen asleep at his work bench again. He takes the screwdriver out of Tony’s hand before guiding him through the door and towards his bed. 

Steve knows he had a nightmare, likely one about Afghanistan from the way he’s still pressing his hand into his chest, over his ripped T-shirt, where the arc reactor lived. Steve doesn’t pry, instead he pulls back the blanket on Tony’s side, and slips back into his own side.

Tony stops, only to kick off his dirty grease splattered jeans, before he’s sliding into the open side of the bed. At first, they lay there beside each other like they used to do, in the dark, but then quickly, Tony is turning onto his side and backing up against Steve, his reflexes take over and Steve turns, becoming the big spoon, wrapping Tony up in his arms as they both fall back asleep to the sound of even breaths. 

When Steve wakes up Tony is gone, but his screwdriver is still sitting on the bed side table, and it makes him smile in a way that only Tony can manage. 

Tony is gone after that for a week, some business trip for Stark Industries. Steve tries not to be bothered by it, it’s just what Tony does for a living it's not personal. He distracts himself with keeping busy during the days, running, working out, sparring with Natasha when possible, anything to keep him tired enough to sleep when the evening rolls around.

It’s been a full seven days, not that Steve is counting, before Tony gets home. When he does, he strides onto the shared floor with his usual bravado, a wide smile plastered across his very tanned skin - he must have been somewhere sunny Steve thinks to himself. Tony explains that his trip was an incredible success,  _ when are they not _ Clint snips, Tony chooses to ignore it and says they’re ordering in to celebrate. 

Hours of pizza and beer and polite conversation brings the night to an end, and Steve finds himself slipping into the elevator with Tony. They exchange glances, a silent question matched with an equally silent answer, and Tony presses only the floor of the penthouse. Steve’s missed it, and clearly Tony has as well.

When they get to the penthouse, they strip down to their shorts, and crawl into Tony’s giant king sized bed. This time, there’s no hesitation, as soon as Steve lays down, Tony crawls right into his space, tucking his head under Steve’s chin, pressed against his chest.

“I think I’m getting too used to this.” Tony whispers into the dark room.

The talking is still weird, mostly because Steve knows they aren’t good at it. Small talk, fine, but their mouths always got them into trouble with one another. Silence was easier, but Steve couldn’t help but agree. 

“Me too.”

There’s no more talking though, just silence and breathing and eventually sleep. 

  
  
  


It’s not often Steve will stumble into Tony during the day time, especially not during the work week, so when he comes into the shared floor kitchen after a long run to find Tony and Natasha having a lunch time conversation over bowls of soup he can’t help but be a little caught off guard. Stuttering out an awkward hello and immediately kicking himself for making it awkward. Natasha notices instantly, but if Tony does, he doesn’t let it be known, instead he offers a polite smile before continuing whatever he had been saying. 

Steve makes himself busy around the kitchen, trying not to obviously listen in, he can’t help himself though, listening as Tony says something about hot food and hot dates. Natasha laughs light and easy, in a way that only Tony could make happen. 

“Are you sure?” Natasha presses. “She’s a very nice woman, I think you two would hit it off.”

Steve feels his stomach drop out, and his entire body freeze as he pieces together the bits of conversation he had overheard. 

“I’m sure.” Tony's answer after what feels like endless minutes. “I have my sights set on someone else at the moment anyways.”

Steve finally lets go of the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, knowing it drew the attention back to him across from the speaking pair. “You shouldn’t set up nice women with Tony anyways.” he says, knowing he needs to say something, turning to face the curious eyes. “He’s a bad influence you know.”

“I could be a good influence on the right person, if I got the chance.” Tony replies with a playful smirk on his lips.

Natasha being the ever observant human being she is, raises her eyebrows at Steve, a knowing look on her pale face, she says nothing else looking back down at her lunch and changing the topic entirely.

_ “So Clint once again had pizza in the training room..” _

  
  
  


It’s late that night when Steve sneaks into Tony’s room, he’s in bed but he’s not sleeping, the light is on and he’s got a tablet in his hands. He offers Steve a kind smile as he slips through the cracked bedroom door. Steve can’t help but wonder, as he moved around the room, how this all became so normal, how he hadn’t noticed the reasons why months ago when it all started.

“Can I try something?” He asks as he reaches the foot of the bed. “If it’s weird I’ll never do it again.”

“And here I was thinking our situation was as weird as it could get.” Tony says it like a joke, even though it’s just the truth. “Try me.”

Steve nods, accepting the approval, Tony is sitting with his back against the headboard, the tablet now discarded in his lap, waiting for whatever it is that Steve wants to try. It’s something Steve had thought about for some time, never seriously, a passing fantasy - or so he thought until the afternoon in the kitchen. Carefully, Steve crawls onto the bed, beside Tony’s legs, stopping when he’s up next to Tony. He thinks, at that point, Tony knows where he’s going, and Tony confirms that by raising his chin, head tilting just slightly to the side as their lips connect in a kiss. It’s Chaste, testing, and surprisingly not weird one bit.

Tony is smiling when Steve pulls away, silently agreeing that it was not weird at all. There’s no more talking, but there is also no more kissing, as Steve settles down on the mattress beside Tony, it’s late, and they both slide down under the blankets. Jarvis dims the lights and it takes only that for Steve to scootch over, resting his head on Tony’s chest this time. He knows it’s awkward because of his size, but it doesn’t seem to bother Tony, quite the opposite as Tony’s arms wrap around him as much as they can, and they fall asleep. 

When Steve wakes up, they’re in the same position, only Tony’s finger tip is tracing shapes on Steve’s arm, he’s awake, and by the looks of it has been for sometime, but he doesn’t move, he just smiles down at Steve and they stay like that for some more time.

“I am definitely too used to this.” Steve finds himself speaking into the silence.

“I am too.” Tony says “But I think that’s good, I think this is just us.”

“Us.” Steve agrees.

Steve couldn’t remember how it all started, there was no pinpointing an exact moment. Steve remembers it being simple, a few evenings spent in bed with a friend to cure loneliness, a mutual appreciation for the others company and a desire for something more. It may have even started as a playful suggestion, Tony making some innuendo laced proposal, and Steve quickly accepting. All that matters is Steve used to only sometimes sleep with Tony, now he always slept next to him. 

Occasionally Steve would take the elevator to the penthouse, most of the time though he could climb the stairs at the end of a long day. Silently make his way through the living space and down the short hall where the door would always be open, just a crack. If Tony was still working, or away he would just silently make his way to his side of the bed. If Tony was there, if he was awake or sleeping it wouldn’t matter, he would crawl into the bed, wrap his arms around the man he loved and both of them would go to sleep.

There was nothing platonic about it, they didn’t bother keeping it to themselves, they didn’t care who knew in the daylight. The team had stated that it was  _ about damn time _ , and they never really needed yet another reason to tease either of them, but it was fine. It was just Tony and Steve. Steve never found himself needing to explain, and Tony never needed to elaborate, a mutual understanding, a mutual love. 


End file.
